Friday, April 29, 2011

To me, it's just another wedding.
Sure, William is a royal grandson, Diana's oldest boy, and the whole world did go ga-ga over her wedding.

But I've seen enough.
For more than a week the wedding has been all over the news, current affairs programs, in magazines and newspapers.
I know that for some it's a big affair.
Huge.

I'm happy that Will and Kate are getting married. I'm happy that they've been friends long enough to really know each other. I'm happy that the Queen is happy enough to lend Kate the ring tiara that is holding her veil.

But the only part I'm really interested in is Kate's wedding dress.
And now that I've seen it, I'm watching something else.
Because it's a royal wedding, the ceremony is going to be a long one.
Very long.
Too long for me.
Heck, my own wedding ceremony was too long, and that was only about half an hour.

Anyway, the dress.
Kate's wedding dress is beautiful. Whoever designed it for her did a beautiful job. It suits Kate perfectly.
Ivory satin and lace, short train, sheer, non-lacy veil, held in place by the Queen's ring tiara.

Sweep the dust off the walls.
Vacuum the carpet.
Hop on a bus and take beach photos.

Did I do any of those things?

Heck no!

What I did was:

Figure out how to schedule new posts. Yay me!!
Catch up on some blogs I haven't been to for a while.
Finish reading my current novel.
Spent hours and hours and hours sorting my photo files.
Putting a gazillion photos into folders by category in the dated folders.

Hopefully this will make it easier for me to now find the photos I need for any particular post.

Oh, I did catch a bus...
to my daughter's house and had a lovely family Easter lunch.

Brown the sausages, cut into half or one inch pieces, set aside.
In a large jug mix together the sugar, crumbled stock cubes, sauces,
a/c vinegar and hot water.
Cook onions in butter until soft, but not browned.
Blend in the flour.
Gradually stir in the jug mixture, stirring constantly to prevent
mixture becoming lumpy.
Add grated /shredded carrot.
Stir until boiling, turn down to simmer, add sausage bits.
Cover and simmer about half an hour, stirring now and again to prevent
sticking.
Serve over cooked rice, (because raw rice is just a little too crunchy..)
Add a green vegetable of your choice. I like broccoli with this.

If you like curry, then add curry powder to the plain flour, before
stirring that into the cooked onions. The amount of curry powder you add
is entirely up to you.

Wednesday, April 27, 2011

But I wasn't your regular unwashed, unkempt type, wheeling her possessions around in a stolen supermarket trolley.
No No NO, not me.

I was clean, groomed, nicely dressed.
I wheeled my possessions around in a clean, small, wheelie bin, that had a heavy chain and padlock attached.

I'd hang around the really fancy hotels, the ones where rich tourists were known to stay.
There'd be a bench seat on the footpath near the main entrance, and this is where I'd chain the wheelie bin.
I'd pull out whatever novel I was currently reading and sit on the bench pretending to be waiting for someone.

Being clean and well dressed any hotel staff who saw me didn't take much notice. I was never "moved on", like I would have been if I'd hung around dirty and smelly.

As the tourists left the hotel, they'd spot the bin and drop in stuff they no longer wanted.

Souvenirs they'd bought on impulse, but didn't really want.
Clothing they'd bought when touring the local colourful markets, but decided they didn't really like after all.
Sometimes some of their own clothing, maybe they'd spilled coffee or hotdog sauce and the stain hadn't quite come out. Maybe a small cigarette burn on a jacket. A pair of shoes with a broken heel.

(Remember this is a dream.....)

At the end of the day, or if the bin filled before that, I'd unchain it and move on to an abandoned shed on the outskirts of the area and sort through the contents.
(This is where I stayed, with used, mostly good, furniture that I'd dragged in off the roadside during hard rubbish dump season. I even had blankets!)

Souvenirs were placed in a cardboard box, clothes were tried on.
Any that fit became mine.

Clothes that didn't fit me were carefully scrutinised.
Missing buttons? I'd sew some on.
Stain? Embroider around it and turn it into a flower or something.
(In real life I'm not at all crafty, there's no embroidery going on here)

Shoes were also tried on, particularly if they were boots that would keep me warm through the winter.
Heeled shoes that had a broken heel were placed in a bag to be taken to a shoemaker.

One weekend a month, the good stuff, clothing and souvenirs were taken to a weekend market where I would sell them.
This is how I'd make enough money to pay for food, soap, and the repairs on the shoes, which I would then sell at the next market.

Monday, April 25, 2011

I can read things and understand them.
I can read things that I don’t fully understand and they will make sense to me. What I can’t do , is explain my understanding of things.
I can’t explain just how things make sense to me.
I can’t explain the meanings of things I understand, in ways that make sense to others. I lack the ability to communicate.
So I stay quiet...

Ask me questions and I can probably answer them, but don’t expect me to start or carry a conversation. I can’t do it.

Even after many years “talking” to people at the checkout, real conversation doesn’t come easy to me.I fake it. I make stuff up.
If you say things convincingly enough, people will believe you.

When you’re only with them for as long as it takes to pack their groceries and take their money, what does it matter?

But discuss politics? Economics? Things you’ve read in the newspaper?
It’s all out of my league. Because I don’t understand those things.

Magazines?
They’re all celebrity gossip, which I don’t care for, so I can’t discuss that either. Why would I care how many pairs of boots someone buys? How many times they’ve switched boyfriends or husbands?

Before my checkout years I worked in factories.
I was on “the team”, but I was alone in the middle of the crowd.
Suited me just fine.

Before that I was at home, raising the kids, until the youngest was in school.
I didn’t socialise, the endless gossip of the neighbours seemed pointless to me.
I did try, there were occasional Tupperware parties, school tuckshop days.But I was always afraid of being laughed at, afraid they’d think me stupid, because I couldn’t comfortably talk to them much past saying hello.
I was much more at ease at home alone with my babies. And my books.
Fiction. Always fiction. To escape.

A little background is probably necessary here.

All through Primary school I just drifted through my classes, much like I now drift through my life.
The work seemed too easy for me, I didn’t have to try at all, I rarely bothered with homework.
My dad always said I didn’t have to do it. As far as he was concerned, schoolwork was done at school.
He was also convinced that education should be free, including excursions, which I never went on, because he refused to pay.
There were no sports or other extracurricular activities either, unless they were free. Of course they weren't, which left me with the library or the beach. And I was happy enough there, in my own little world.

More background.
I’d been raised not to question my parents. (Or any authority figure really).
They weren’t bullies or abusive. They loved us all.

But my older sister was born retarded, (the term now is mentally challenged), and to keep her safe, she was taught to do as she was told always, and not to question why. Being almost four years younger, I just naturally followed along. With a younger brother who had mild epilepsy, the two of them needed much more attention than me, so I learned to stay out of the way.

I learned to read early, by listening as my sister struggled for years, with Dick and Dora, Dick and Jane, books kept me out of trouble.

By nature I was easy going and lazy, like my dad.

When my mum left us on the eve of my eighth birthday, she took my brother and sister, and I was raised by dad.

He’d leave for work in the mornings and set the alarm clock; when it went off, I’d get up, eat something and go to school.
I was alone, but I was happy. I was never lonely.
I had my Library books and my imagination.

Back to my school years.

My dad didn’t really see education as being necessary for girls who would only grow up, marry and then have babies.
(In his youth, that’s what girls did..)I suspect he didn't finish school himself.

So without words being said, I understood that when I reached school leaving age, I would leave. And I did.

I'd enjoyed high school. The learning was a challenge, which made it fun, unlike primary school, where I'd breezed through everything.
I loved English. History and Math were interesting, Science was fun.
But I didn't really try.
What for? I was leaving at 15.

When career options were discussed at high school, I didn’t pay much attention. I didn’t see why I should think about finishing high school, then going on to university for even more learning, just to get a job for a while until I married.

I knew nothing about money or saving or how much better my future options would have been. Such things were never discussed at home, certainly never with me. (Men earned the money, women looked after the home and kids).

Add in the fact that I was also shy, didn’t make friends easily, why would I want to stay at school, amongst people I couldn’t talk to?

So I drifted on through life, drifted into marriage, eventually growing apart and divorcing.
Without higher education I wasn’t qualified for any job better than factory work.
Life became a little harder, but I coped.Go back to school you say?
Not so easy. There wasn’t money for schooling, night school was out of the question, not only because of the lack of cash, but also because I’d never learned to drive. Factor in the laziness and lack of communication skills....

Besides all that, I’d never got the “study habit” so important to real learning.
Things don’t “stick”. Things I hear and learn don’t stay with me.
Not the important stuff anyway.

I know now, that the way I grew up isn’t a good way.
Education and learning, staying in school to better my chances and get a career, instead of “just a job”, would have been a better way.
If I’d been pushed, I would have done it.

But I’d grown up lazy, and been allowed to be lazy , and that’s a hard habit to break.

By the time I wanted more from myself, I was at home with four children.

Sunday, April 24, 2011

It's Sunday Selections time again.
The idea came from Kim at Frogpondsrock, who decided this was a great way to show off photos that had been stored and forgotten in her files.
Kim has invited us all to join her in this weekly meme.
All you need to do is dust off those old files, open them up and select a few random photos to post under the Sunday Selections title.
Once you've posted your photos, link back to Kim somewhere in your post, then go on over to frogpondsrock and add your name to the linky list.
Don't forget to have a look at what others have chosen for their Sunday Selections.

I usually do a theme, and this week I've chosen bugs.

The only ladybug seen in my yard for a full year.

A young praying mantis.

I like these cheeky little crickets.

This butterfly rested near my front door just long enough for me to take his picture.

I don't know what this bug is, but it has pretty markings.

Some type of bug eggs that I only noticed because they were sparkling in the sunlight.

Saturday, April 23, 2011

I’m a checkout operator.
Here’s something I see on a daily basis.
Not just at Christmas or Easter, but all year round.

Customer after customer coming to the checkout areas with a full basket or arms loaded with more items than they can carry.
Some of them are using a trolley.
Some of them start out with just their handbags, then when their arms are full, getting a trolley to continue shopping.

Why is this? Impulse buying.

They have come in for just one or two items, then seen other things they’d forgotten they needed, or simply just decided to buy. On impulse.

This is the marketing tactic behind out of season goods being supplied when particular items normally wouldn’t be sold.

For instance, take the recent sales of Hot Cross Buns.
These have been on supermarket shelves since early January.
(For several years now).

But think back to your childhood.
Were these yummy buns available so freely back then?
No, they were not.

Traditionally, these buns are an Easter item, being eaten on Good Fridays, all over the world.

I don’t remember exactly when Hot Cross Buns first appeared so early in the year. I do remember that there weren’t nearly as many as there are now.
Nor so many varieties.
Fruit, fruitless, gluten free, choc-chip.
Regular size, mini buns.
(Give the people what they want and reap the rewards).
$$$$$$$$$$ Ka-ching!!

Did they appear because people had asked for them?
So soon after the Christmas feasting?
I’m inclined to think the answer is NO.NO NO NO

They sold, (of course), because we are impulsive creatures, and when we see something that triggers a memory, something that we’ve enjoyed in the past, our natural instinct is to buy it again.

Marketing industries have studied shopping habits worldwide and come to this conclusion.
Put a rarely seen item on the shelves and people will buy it.
Word will get around.

“Hey, look what I bought in (supermarket) today!”
“Oh, we love those, I’ll go and get some too.”

With increased sales (read - profits), these items gradually began appearing in greater numbers, then earlier and earlier.

Different chains began to try and outdo each other.

One supermarket chain had Hot Cross Buns on sale on the 2nd of January.
The next year a rival supermarket had Hot Cross Buns for sale on the 1st of January!

This is also the case with Christmas decorations, Mother’s Day gifts and Father’s day gifts.

Year after year, Christmas items are in the shops as early as September.

When I was a small child, Christmas items did not appear until late November or even early December.

From what I can see, none of this is actually driven by consumer demand.
If the items were not available in January, because Easter isn’t until April, (sometimes March), then I truly don’t think
they would be making a fuss, asking
"Where are our hot cross buns?"
"Why aren’t they on sale?"
"We want hot cross buns!"
"And we want them now!"

It all comes down to marketing. Sales designed to grab as many of our dollars as they can. And because we are such impulsive creatures, we allow this!!

Would the supermarkets suffer if we didn’t buy these items?
If we remembered that Hot Cross Buns are an Easter item?
If we didn’t buy them until the few days preceding Good Friday?

Perhaps in the first year or two, when thousand upon thousands of unsold buns had to be tossed away. But they would still make good sales on all of their regular items.
(as well as left over,reduced in price, Christmas items, at least in January).

I think it’s time, we, as shoppers, took a stand here, buying items at the proper times.
Hot Cross Buns in time for Good Friday, and Easter Eggs in the couple of weeks leading to Easter Sunday.

Thursday, April 21, 2011

I expected the store to be busy, with the Easter break coming up, but I didn't think it would be full on quite so early in the morning. I started my shift at 6am, by 7am the store was full of shoppers.

It was like Christmas, and you all remember what Christmas shopping is like....

For the first time in a long time, (well, since Christmas), we had more than two main checkouts open. And by the time I left work, all open checkouts had lines of people waiting. The express lanes had the longest line, that's always the way, so many people come in just to buy office Easter Eggs, and use the quickest lanes.

The main checkouts all had two or three trolleys waiting in line and they were filled to overflowing. I sold more Easter Eggs today than I have in the last month.

I remember one woman who bought what seemed to be half the store. As I was finalising the transaction and handing over her receipt, I jokingly said, "that should keep you going for a day or two".
She gave me a look that said I'm not kidding as she said "the way my boys eat, I'll be lucky if this does last two days". So I asked how old the boys were. Three teenagers, plus a cousin for the holidays.
Hmmm, maybe she should have bought extra.....

You know what was the best part? Everybody was happy.
No-one complained about having to wait too long in line.
No-one complained about lack of supplies on the shelves.
There were good vibes right throughout the store.
Absolutely everyone bought Easter Eggs with their groceries. Lots of Easter Eggs.
One executive type bought 60 Lindt Bunnies to hand out to his office staff.

One lovely man said "I'm not a chocoholic, truly I'm not" as he loaded the checkout with half a dozen boxed Easter Eggs and quite a few Lindt Bunnies.
My reply? "So these are all for me then?" And we both laughed.

I only did the four hour shift I'm allowed, but as I walked upstairs to my locker, I was, not quite exhausted, but close to it.
It was full on "hi, how are you?" Scan, pack, scan, pack; with barely a minute in between to wipe off the conveyor belt. (I do like to keep it clean).

I was careful to take it easy and not pack the bags too full, I'm happy to say that the shoulder, neck and back are all holding up well.

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Early customer this morning wanted groceries home delivered, he and his wife reeked of smoke and so did all their bags.

That really strong smell that you get when the smoke has leached right into the fabrics of things and never been washed.
The smell that rises up and slaps you in the face.

I remember the things in my Dad's flat smelling exactly the same after he'd sat in there chain smoking for several years, not just the soft furnishings, but the hard stuff too, especially his TV.

Because they weren't taking their goods with them, the bags sat on the floor behind me for quite a while, before I had time to get a trolley and load them into it so I could move them away from my checkout.

I got a headache immediately, then a couple of other customers about an hour later had the same smell.

Another home delivery.
More stinky bags sitting right behind me.

These are people I've never seen before, they're not regulars, so I wasn't comfortable mentioning that perhaps they could wash their bags.
With people I've gotten to know over the years, I would have been able to suggest it might be a good idea to wash the bags.

If it had been a little later in the morning, with more checkout staff working, I could have asked someone else to step in for me for a minute, but at that time there were only two of us and L was already serving customers on another checkout. J wasn't due in for another ten minutes.

In spite of many, many panadols, and a two hour nap, my brain is throbbing like a Mack truck idling at the lights. Like a convoy of Harley Davidsons cruising the main roads.

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Several weeks ago I was contacted by email to see if I'd like to trial a new laundry powder.

The powder?DUO +Antibacterial ultra concentrate.

The back of the box reads:Get more out of your wash with DUO!Fights odours and leaves laundry hygienically clean.Hygienically cleans even in cold water.Ideal for dirty clothes such as sweaty sports gear, underwear, socks, work clothes, towels and linen that can harbour germs.

I've been using DUO for years and have always been happy with the results.
DUO was always cheaper than leading detergent brands and I found it to be very effective even when using only half the stated amount of powder. I usually wash in warm to hot water, but this new DUO promises good results in COLD water. A potential saving on my gas bill....
So I was willing to give it a try.

In due course a package containing a 950g box of DUO powder was delivered to my door.

Each box of powder comes with its own plastic scoop, which I immediately tossed away, as I always do....

...in favour of this sturdier blue scoop, that I've had for years, from god-knows-where.

The original DUO hasn't been seen on supermarket shelves for quite a while now, making me thankful for my habit of buying in bulk whenever it's on special,I still have several boxes left from my last bulk purchase.

Since this new box of DUO +antibacterial was delivered I've done four loads of washing, all in cold water, and I'm happy to say my clothes, towels and sheets have all come out clean and fresh smelling.

I don't have children living with me, school age or older, so I can't vouch for it's efficiency against stinky teenager socks or sweaty sports clothes.
But I am prepared to say that in my opinion this powder will be effective as stated on the box, even in cold water.

Duo +antibacterial has a very light, fresh scent which is not at all over powering or noticeable after the clothes are washed, and doesn't contain any added scent such as those found in many other laundry powders. (Lavender; Green Apple etc)

This is a bonus for me, since I don't like my washing powders to be scented with anything that might cause my clothes to give me any allergic reactions, like itching and hayfever.

I'd recommend this to anyone.

This is not a sponsored post and I'm not receiving any payment for writing this.

Sunday, April 17, 2011

Kim, of Frogpondsrock, has brought us this wonderful idea, called Sunday Selections.
Like Kim, I have many photos stored in folders (and folders within folders)on my computer.

Sunday Selections is a way of using these photos.

Anyone can join in, by posting photos they've stored but never used, under the Sunday Selections title and linking back to Kim.
Then go to Kim's site, add your name to her link list and leave a comment under the post there.

You can make a theme, as I often do, or use random photos of whatever takes your fancy.

This week, my theme is Wheels.

The wheels on this flower sellers cart are often seen in Norwood Mall.

Driving wheels (by Jimmy Barnes-a favourite song), you'll find these on every car, taking us away or bringing us home.

Have you ever noticed hubcaps? Once upon a time a cap was a cap was a cap, now there are so many different styles.

The wheels on the bus go round and round..

The wheels on bulk transport vehicles are large and often fitted in twos...

...and threes

Wheels with Attitude

Fun wheels

Racing wheels

Motorbike wheels

These wheels make taking our garbage to the kerb each week so much easier.

Miniature wheels

A sight not often seen in cities, the windmill wheel.

There are even...

...wheels to help us shop.

Don't forget to visit Kim at frogpondsrock to see who else has joined in and look at what they've posted for their Sunday Selections.

Saturday, April 16, 2011

Sometime last year I planted carrot seeds.
From a packet of heritage seeds.
Carrots in four colours.
Orange, yellow, white, purple.
In vain I waited for them to grow.

Sometime later last year I planted some more carrot seeds.
In vain I waited for them to grow.

I took the rest of the seeds out to the pots and dumped them all in together.
They grew.
But they were all bunched up together and not doing well.

I prepared a new pot of potting soil, and transplanted the carrot seedlings, oh-so-carefully.

Most of them promptly died.

Three survived and even grew.
As is often the case with transplanted carrots, they didn't grow straight and true.
The tops grew large and feathery, giving no hint of the craziness happening below the soil surface.
The carrots grew fat, but stunted. Short and twisted.

One orange, one yellow, one white.

I pulled them out today.
I'm giving up on the vegetables and putting in flowers.
Maybe.
Maybe I'll leave the pots empty.

I took photos of the twisted, stunted carrots, but blogger won't upload them.
So you'll have to use your imaginations to see how they may have looked.

I'll try again at some later stage, (next week, next month, next year), maybe blogger will have a change of heart.

The carrots weren't edible, peeling them would have been impossible anyway.

Thursday, April 14, 2011

Frenziedly going through every room.
Upending every handbag onto the bed.
Rifling through drawers.
Searching every jacket pocket.

I knew it had been in my mini backpack.
But now it wasn't.

I couldn't find it anywhere.

My camera.Lost.
Half-heartedly I phoned the chemist, the post office, I'd been there yesterday.
But I knew that if I'd left my camera on a seat anywhere in the mall, I'd lost it forever.
Anyone picking up a perfectly good camera equipped with a 2GB memory card and new lithium batteries, wasn't likely to hand it in. It happens.
I phoned Coles, where I work.
"Hi ------, it's me,
Has anyone handed in a camera?"

"Yes there is a camera here, can you describe yours?"
"Canon powershot A460; silver with a blue streak"

Hallelujah!! It was my camera!!
I'd left it on the shelf next to the lockers in our locker room upstairs and my supervisor had found it.
Mentally smacking myself, I put my shoes on and hurried to Coles as fast as my little legs would go.

Oh, the relief!
My precious little Canon is once more right beside me.

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

After my physio appointment this afternoon, I was walking along the Parade on my way home, when I suddenly got sucked into this takeaway pasta shop.
pasta go go (their bold, not mine)
Real Italian (it's written right there on the card)

where I bought this for my dinner.
Spinach ravioli with napolitana sauce. And cheese. Mmmmm......

Look how full this is! They really pack it in there.
The container measures about 10cm high by 8-9cm square and the food comes with a little plastic fork wrapped in a paper napkin.
I could only eat about half, so Yay! I have dinner for tomorrow night too!